


I Have a Need

by Eviscera



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Begging, Clint having Dreams, Frosthawk - Freeform, Frustrated Clint, Jealous Loki, M/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eviscera/pseuds/Eviscera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when he's asleep, Clint can't seem to avoid Loki's particular attentions.  Of course, this only leads to more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have a Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Desade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desade/gifts).



　

When the sounds first reached Loki through the fog of sleep, he thought Clint was having yet another nightmare. Gasping moans and panting breaths that accompanied the restless tossing of the solid body beside him in the bed all spoke of some inner struggle his Hawk was fighting. As the heavy burden of sleep lifted from him, however, he soon realized that it wasn’t fear that caused Clint to toss in his sleep.

In this, Loki knew his archer well. Those moans were not borne of terror. He had pulled those very same moans from him on many occasions, and he reveled in the sound of each one as it left his throat, in the knowledge that he was the author of such uncensored lust.

Well, he _usually_ was. This night, it seemed something within Clint’s own dreaming mind had taken his place. A faint stab of jealousy met that thought; who would dare intrude into _his_ territory? Clint’s pleasure was _his_ to dispense. Loki found himself curious to know what his Hawk was dreaming of, to make those sounds, to push his hips up into nothing in a bid for some kind of friction. His need was obvious even through the sheets, the hard length clearly outlined against his lower belly. Even as Loki watched, his eyes half-lidded and predatory, it gave a sharp twitch just as Clint let out a hissing breath that ended on the faintest hint of a whimper.

A low growl worked its way out of Loki’s throat at the sound, equal parts affronted and aroused. Only _he_ should be wringing those sounds from that throat, and the thought that some _other_ might have ensnared his archer’s sleeping mind settled like a lead weight in his gut.

It seemed even in his sleep, Clint could feel his god’s ire, hear the possessive growl that floated in the air between them. He turned his face into the pillow, and if Loki wasn’t certain that he was still asleep, he would have sworn Clint was offering his throat. As he watched, Clint’s hips left the bed entirely at the same moment he gave another needy whine, and when his mouth fell open, a quiet, breathy moan of Loki’s name drifted out.

 

The god was wide awake now, every nerve in his body singing, pulling him up to sit beside his writhing Hawk. He looked down at him with wide, dark eyes, nearly shaking with the surge of lust he felt at the sound of his name in _that_ voice.

So, it seemed he was the author of those moans after all. Pity, he didn’t remember being invited.

Loki lowered himself back to the sheets, hovering over his sleeping archer, watching the play of need and frustration and lust across his face. He was nearly purring at the thought that, even in his sleep, Clint dreamed of Loki bringing him to ruin. It was no small thing to the god, his Hawk’s affections, and every time he thought he could make him no happier, he learned a new secret, a new crack in the wall as Clint chipped his way deeper.

A shudder wracked the body below him, and his brow furrowed in that endearing way of his as he strained for something that only Loki could give him.

That was the end of Loki’s restraint. He couldn’t simply watch his Hawk suffer the torment of having his needs gone unfulfilled when he was more than willing to give him anything he needed.

Slipping his hand beneath the sheets, Loki leaned in close until his breath ghosted across the shell of Clint’s ear, his fingers sliding over the ridge of his hip. In his sleep, Clint sucked in a breath and held it, his movements stilling under the god’s touch.

"Whatever could you be dreaming, my Hawk?" Loki murmured against Clint’s ear. "To make such wanton sounds and move so enticingly under the sheets?"

The archer moaned and turned towards the sound of his voice, bringing a small, pleased smile to the god’s face. His fingers skated over heated skin, teasing the spot just below Clint’s navel with the backs of his nails and wringing a shuddering sigh from his throat. He could feel the heat of his arousal, so close, he had but to move just a scant inch lower. Clint’s hips arched upwards, seeking that feather-light touch, and his breaths came faster. As Loki watched, his eyes rolled madly behind their lids, and his curiosity only grew.

The frustration soon grew too much for the sleeping archer, and those eyes slowly fluttered open as he crossed the thin veil between sleep and wakefulness. He blinked the haze of sleep from his eyes, chest heaving with his panting breaths, and he gazed up at Loki in a confused daze.

At first, he thought he was still trapped in his dream. The god’s hands on him, teasing his body, the steady breaths fanning across the skin of his throat, they were all remnants of his dream. He lifted a hand, slow and clumsy with the weight of sleep, to twine his fingers through Loki’s sleep-mussed hair.

"Don’t stop," he murmured, still caught in the undertow of his dream. His voice was low and rough, with a desperate, ragged edge that caused Loki’s breath to stutter in his throat.

"What is it you want?" Loki purred, skating his fingertips through the light dusting of hair just below Clint’s navel.

The touch dragged a whimper from the other man’s throat, and his hips lifted as if to lure those teasing fingers lower. "Touch me," he sighed, his fingers tightening in Loki’s hair. "Please?"

"I _am_ touching you," the god’s voice sighed against his ear as he scratched across the sensitive skin of Clint’s lower belly. He felt the muscles clench and shudder, going tight with need. Clint loosed another pitiful whimper and shut his eyes tightly against the tingling sting. "You wish for more than this, do you?"

"Please...?" Clint whined, needy and desperate in the wake of his dream.

The covers were lifted from him, then, and the cool rush of air across his heated skin helped wake him more fully. He blinked up at Loki, the haze of sleep falling away, only to be replaced by the need he’d felt while the Loki of his dream teased and taunted him. He gripped the sheets beneath him as he gazed up at his dark god, who rose to kneel above him, his hands sliding over smooth, warm skin, down his chest, across his heaving belly, over his twitching hips to bracket his straining arousal. He couldn’t help it, Clint lifted his hips into Loki’s touch, raising clear of the bed in a bid for some kind of attention where he was most needy.

"Such an insistent thing you are, my Hawk," Loki murmured. "Where is that finely-honed restraint you normally possess?"

Clint swallowed back a whine and sent a pleading look Loki’s way as the god’s hands skimmed so close to his arousal, yet made no move to give him the contact he needed. He didn’t know what Loki meant by ‘restraint’, but his defenses were dust at the moment, laid low by the fog of sleep and the arousal he’d already been suffering before he was ever even touched. His body was wound tight with need, and it seemed as though he’d already passed the point of no return. His heart hammered in his chest, thumping out the rhythm of his lust, nearly drowning out everything else but the sound of Loki’s voice. He didn’t now how much longer he would be able to hold out. He was so hard it _hurt_ , and the god’s stubborn refusal to give him what he’d already begged for caused a helpless whine to push itself from his throat, despite his best efforts to keep it contained. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Clint turned his face into the pillow, gripping the sheets in tight fists as his lower body strained into Loki’s touch.

When he spoke, his voice was a strained whimper. " _Loki..."_

At that broken plea, Loki’s resolve wavered; he hadn’t known quite how far gone Clint was when he’d begun his teasing, but it was clear that his Hawk was close to breaking already. He was equal parts aroused and intrigued. What _had_ Clint been dreaming of to bring him to such a state?

Leaning down to hover over his desperate archer, Loki whispered, "I shall give you what you wish -- _anything_ you wish -- if you do but one thing for me."

Clint’s hips strained beneath Loki’s touch even as he gasped out, "What do you want?"

Loki’s mouth curved into a predatory grin and his eyes narrowed. "Tell me what you were dreaming, and I will make sure it becomes reality."

All the strength fled from Clint’s legs at the promise held within Loki’s words. He let his breath out in a gasp as he fell back to the bed, overcome with a sudden surge of arousal at the thought of having what his dreaming mind had been teasing him with.

"Is that all?" Clint asked as he levered himself up from the bed to pull Loki down by the nape of his neck until they shared the same breath. "Can’t you guess? You had me pinned under you, Loki. Flat on my belly with one hand wrapped around my neck and the other holding me down until I could barely move." He slid his mouth closer to Loki’s ear and let his voice drop to a deep rumble. "And I was _begging_ for you. Harder. Deeper. _More_. And you gave it to me."

He pulled back to see that familiar haze of lust had darkened those wide green eyes, and Clint couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face. Of all of Loki’s buttons, this had been pressed least of all, but only because of how completely it could break him when pressed just right. Nothing else could ruin his god quite so thoroughly as when Clint lowered his pride enough to beg to be taken.

"You... want this?" Loki asked, and there was no disguising the tentative hope that wrapped his words.

Instead of answering with words, Clint took Loki’s wrist and guided his hand between his legs, past the throbbing length of his arousal, over the tightening skin of his balls, until he could press the god’s fingers against his opening. His hips pushed up into the touch, and Loki could feel the needy pulse of hungry flesh; yes, it was more than obvious that Clint wanted this, his body was thrumming, practically screaming for this.

In a low, gravelly rumble, Clint demanded, "Fuck me, Loki."

No more urging was needed. Loki surged forward, pushing Clint flat to the bed, and pressed his full weight against the archer. He swallowed Clint’s amused chuckle at his sudden show of excitement as he claimed that taunting mouth with his own, blotting out all but his want of the man beneath him.

His Hawk’s submission was no small, trifling thing; not from someone whose pride was so much a part of them, who had submitted to no other before. To have him beneath him was more than enough, but to have him _begging_ , near-delirious with want and pleading for Loki to give him what he so desperately needed? It was almost enough to break him then and there.

Then Clint was pushing him back, and Loki released him with a reluctant whimper.

"Better take it down a notch, Princess," he chided. "You’re gonna finish us both before we even get started."

Pressing his forehead to Clint’s Loki growled down at him. "I can hardly be blamed. You are maddening when you are like this, Clint."

Clint huffed out an amused breath. "Yeah, well this is kinda your fault, you know." At Loki’s questioning hum, he went on, "I only had that dream because you were feeling me up in my sleep."

Loki went still at the accusation, then a slow smile crept across his face. "Indeed? And my touch was enough to inspire such wicked dreams?" He gave a pleased hum at the thought. "I still cannot find fault in my actions. It seems even in slumber, I cannot keep my hands from you."

"Yeah, I figured that much out on my own," Clint said dryly. He shoved at Loki’s shoulder until the god lifted his weight from the smaller man, and then he was turning over onto his stomach. He shot a mischievous smirk over his shoulder at the way Loki’s breath hitched, the god’s eyes traveling over the broad expanse of his back, the dip of his spine, and the swell of his backside presented so enticingly. "We had a deal, remember? I tell you my dream, and you make it happen."

The wiggle of his hips that punctuated that statement was entirely uncalled for, but Loki was beyond complaining when he had such a display before him. His jaw tingled with the urge to bite and mark every square inch of his Hawk’s back, his fingers itched with the need to scratch and claw and leave long, red welts down the curve of his spine and across his flanks. And that ass... well, he would mark his claim of that in an entirely different way.

A low growl rumbled through his chest as Loki moved over the prone form of Clint’s body, lowering his mouth to lick and nip across his shoulders. Clint’s head fell to the pillows and he arched into the touch, his hips lifting unconsciously from the bed to press against Loki’s. All teasing and taunting aside, Loki could feel the need thrumming through the solid body below him; his Hawk had been close before he’d even woken, and now he could feel the hot pulse of his arousal just beneath the skin.

Loki straddled him just below the curve of his ass, coming to rest against the backs of his archer’s thighs. Clint’s back arched as he pressed back, and Loki’s eyes fairly glowed at the needy display. He pushed forward, letting the heavy weight of his cock drag against the cleft of his ass, pulling a gasping moan from Clint’s throat. Again and again he slid back and forth, each time sliding just a bit deeper, until he was brushing against his hungry opening.

"Is this anything like what you dreamed, my Hawk?" Loki asked, teasing the throbbing ring of muscle with the very tip of his cock.

Clint moaned, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to come from deep in his gut. "Not quite," he returned. "In my dream, you were actually _fucking_ me."

Loki bit back a hiss at the wave of sudden arousal that met those words. He wanted nothing more than to make such a thing a reality, and so he wasted no more time taunting his hungry archer.

With a few whispered words, Loki readied himself, smoothing the conjured slickness over his length before pressing against Clint’s opening. He felt the body beneath him still, his breath hitching and shuddering to a stop as he was slowly, carefully breached.

"Oh... _fuck_ ," he gasped, fists tightening in the sheets at the slow, burning drag of hard flesh sinking deep.

"And now, my Hawk?" Loki murmured, his focus torn between the tight heat surrounding him and the muted gasps of the man beneath him. "Is this what you so craved? To have me fill you so full and deep that you can scarcely draw breath?"

" _Yes!"_ Clint panted, grinding his forehead into the sheets when that thick flesh brushed against his hidden spot. "Just like this. God _damn_ it, Loki, _fuck me_... please?" His hips lifted from the bed, taking the last few inches of Loki’s cock all at once, and a ragged moan fell from him at the feeling of fullness, of being completely claimed.

Loki met his hips with his own, and a low growl erupted from deep within at the pleas that fell from his Hawk’s mouth. He pulled back, then rutted deep, pressing down until Clint was pinned to the mattress, his own insistent arousal trapped between his own belly and the sheets. Another spiralling cry ripped itself from Clint’s throat at the dragging friction, and the sheets became damp as he steadily leaked the precursor to his release.

It was a blur of heat and relentless pleasure as Loki rode him, slow and steady at first, but neither of them could be denied. He soon sped his movements, the bed rocking into the wall in a quickly-increasing tempo. Clint writhed beneath him, pressing back onto the invading length with every thrust, then pushing himself into the sheets with each withdraw. Words had failed him not long after they’d begun, but his body spoke for him, and Loki knew him well enough, inside and out, to know what he needed.

Long, slender fingers slid up the archer’s spine and circled his nape, pressing down to keep him pinned in place as Loki’s hips snapped forwards and back. His other hand splayed low on his back, stilling his movements until he was at the mercy of the god above him, merely laying back and taking all he had to give. Clint’s eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of being restrained by nothing but Loki’s hands and his weight pinning him down, and his teeth gritted at the spike of arousal that thought brought him. At any moment, Loki’s fingers could clamp down and snap his neck, or break his back. It was the trust he put into the god, knowing that he would never do such, that drove that spike of heat home, and soon enough, he was on the very edge of orgasm.

It seemed Loki could sense this, and he slowed the movement of his hips just enough to pull Clint back from that precipice. He wasn’t quite finished with his Hawk just yet, and he wanted to hear the gasping, desperate cries as his begged for his release.

"You are so close, my Hawk," he said, leaning down to pant into Clint’s ear.

" _Yes,"_ Clint breathed, unable to voice anything more.

"You wish for me to grant you release, do you not? You wish for this exquisite torture to end?"

"Please...," Clint gasped, fisting the sheets tighter until they pulled away from the mattress. "Loki, please..."

"’Please’ what, Clint? Tell me what you need."

" _Don’t stop."_

The grin that crossed Loki’s face at those words would almost be frightening if anyone other than Clint had seen it, and a low, dark chuckle floated from behind his teeth. He raised himself back up on his knees and growled, "As you wish, my wanton little beast."

The pace he set was punishing, nearly brutal, and Clint’s breath came shorter and more strained as he was fucked into the mattress. His mouth opened on a soundless wail as each thrust forward brushed against his spot, until the heat and burning pressure were too much, and his body locked into a rictus of pleasure. Yet still, it wasn’t enough to make him come, not quite. For that, he needed Loki to grant him release.

"And still you wish for more," Loki gasped, eyes locked onto what he could see of Clint’s face. "And yet you accuse _me_ of being the greedy one."

Clint’s eye cracked open and rolled up to meet glaring green. "Never... said I _wasn’t_ ," he panted. "I just don’t... get a chance to show it... very often."

Loki gave a low, rumbling hum at his words. It was true, Clint more often than not was giving Loki what he wanted, with his own needs coming secondary to that. The sharp sliver of guilt Loki felt at that horrible omission was tempered by his resolve to never let such a thing happen again. If Clint wanted to be taken, owned, then Loki would be the one to give him that.

"And now, my Hawk? Have I given you all that you wish?" Loki punctuated his question with a hard thrust, holding himself deep and grinding his hips against Clint’s. The motion caused him to press into that hidden spot, and Clint cried out against the sheets as his hips strained to push back against him. "I will give you the release you seek. You have but to ask."

It was more than enough for Clint, he’d been skating that edge from the very first thrust. And now? With Loki’s growling voice in his ear and his hard, heavy cock deep inside him, it was only a matter of him asking to be allowed to fall over it.

"Please," he whimpered, arching his back to try to take him even deeper. "Please let me come?"

"I do so love when you lower that damnable pride of yours and _beg_ ," Loki murmured, giving a sharp thrust into the tightening confines of his Hawk. The motion was met with another high, needy whine, and that was finally Loki’s undoing. His hips moved unchecked, a low, primal growl building in his chest. "Come for me then, Clint. Let go of all you hold back from me and _come."_

That last command was the final push, the very last thing he needed, and then Clint was crying out into the sheets, muffling his wails against the mattress as he finally spilled, soaking the sheets beneath him with his release. The tight coil of tension began to unravel, and his body pitched and writhed beneath his god, helpless in the throes of his orgasm.

Through it all, Loki held him pinned, letting the motions of his archer drag him over the edge along with him. He watched Clint come with an expression of near-awe, as if unable to believe that he could inspire such a powerful reaction in his Hawk.

Clint came down slowly, his body shuddering with the aftershocks, heavy and sated and vaguely sore. He chose to ignore that last one, because he’d damn well _earned_ that soreness and he wasn’t about to complain. Loki’s body was a heavy, comforting weight against his back, and he could still feel him deep within, not yet willing to let him pull free just yet.

It seemed Loki was of the same mind, and as he lowered himself to the bed, he pulled Clint along with him, curling his long body around the smaller man and pulling him away from the impressive wet spot he’d managed. He rumbled a contemplative hum against his archer’s ear.

"You certainly were not pretending," he remarked, and with a few passes of his hand, the sheets were clean once again.

Clint made a noncommittal hum and let his head fall to Loki’s shoulder, once more heavy with the pull of sleep. "Did you think I was?"

Loki took his time with his answer, as if unsure how Clint would respond to it. "In a way, I suppose I do often wonder if you want me in this manner. You are always so... adamant in your want of _me_."

"Not used to wanting this," was Clint’s simple answer, and even as he gave it, his eyelids were falling shut. "Never did before." As the last of his consciousness slipped away, his voice became a quiet murmur. "Just want... you."

And as his breathing evened out into the steady cadence of sleep, Loki’s arms tightened around him, and the god hid his pleased smile against the back of his archer’s head.

"Well, if that isn’t flattering, I don’t know what is," he whispered to himself before closing his eyes, the scent of his Hawk heavy around him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my girlfriend, Desade, who requested Sleepy!Clint months ago.


End file.
